


poems for quintessa

by arcanamagnus



Series: Peaceful Mode [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Worldbuilding, not as much poetry as advertised, writing z-list characters bc i like their concepts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 12:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19150702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanamagnus/pseuds/arcanamagnus
Summary: Nebulan princess Llyra Zarak has an interesting time in her diplomatic visit to the Cybertronian colony of Athenia.





	1. Prose

Llyra Zarak had many expectations regarding her newest assignment to a mechanical species’ primarily scientific colony. She’d expected them to be cold, unemotional, logical creatures like, well, like the _robots_ they resembled. She also expected to do normal diplomat stuff, not spend an afternoon reciting Nebulan literature for a living city’s brain and a pair of smaller but still gigantic robots who did that for a living.

“ _I’ll miss him forever, my heart tells me, and I long to come home to my beloved once more. But alas it is not meant to be. For the good of my people I must go, and let him think I’ve abandoned and betrayed him. The needs of the many outweigh the wants of the few. I’ll live and die for him to be safe, even if is not with me. I leave my heart in this locket, and reach for the stars_ ,” Llyra put down her tablet, “And that’s the end of this story. Does it please your Titan?”

“Quintessa is not our Titan. We are hers, first and foremost,” the elder Cityspeaker, Nightbird, made a point to tell her, "But yes, she very much enjoyed it. I'd like to keep a copy, if that is alright with you."

"I'll ask for a translation to be sent to your library," Llyra paused, "Can Quintessa read?"

"She can! She just finds it comforting to have us read to her," the other Cityspeaker, the younger and more open Astral Knight, answered and, without pause, turned his attention back to the city's vitals, "The crystal formation under the theatre is starting to disrupt Energon flow to the Southside. Should I send word to Thunderwing?"

"Please do, I'll increase corrosive influx to the area for now," Nightbird's fingers moved quickly over holographic projections around the Titan's brain — it was almost hypnotising.

It amazed her how fluid and gracefully these metallic giants could move. How well they cared for the city they called Mother. Astral Knight had joked that Athenians were among the most somber of Cybertronians, only behind Antillans; that the music of their speech was dull compared to that of Camiens, Harmonexians or even Darklanders.

Llyra wasn't lucky enough to be able to hear all the nuances of Cybertronian speech, but the beauty of it could make her cry. It was so different from when she had learnt it from other Nebulans! She hadn’t believed it when they said she'd need to rely more on her musical background than her diplomatic skills for this assignment, thought it to be another way for the elders of her home to belittle her intelligence, but these new allies really did live and breathe music so casually and thought nothing of it.

“Ohh!!! Quintessa asks if you’d like to read her one of her favourites,” Astral Knight excitedly pointed at the projection with said request, “I know you're monophonic, but it should be okay if you have an instrument."

"My tablet can project a holographic keyboard. I can't guarantee I'll get it right in one, though," Llyra tapped her fingers on the tablet, anxious, "Is it in poetic notation?"

"It is," Nightbird typed at her datapad, “I’m sending you the file.”

Soon enough Llyra was faced with a short song poem identified as written by Quintus Prime himself. Now, she didn't know all about Cybertronian history, but diplomacy classes made sure she could name every Prime, Magnus, Magistrate and Grand Moderator that ever was, and playing to an ancient leviathan a composition by her closest friend — her _deceased_ closest friend — _by request_? That was a bit wild, for sure.

But Llyra Zarak’s life was nothing if not a series of increasingly strange situations, so she might as well go along with it.

She played a short theme to tune her holographic keyboard to Ankmorian scale and breathed in deeply.

* * *

 

It was dusk by the time the small blue mech assigned as her aide came to take her back to the Nebulan Embassy. Ether Walker drove her quickly and quietly, if a little unsafely, and it was nice to just close her eyes and feel the wind in her hair without having to worry about keeping control of the motorcycle.

Llyra arrived at her temporary home flushed a darker green than usual and looking a little disheveled, but the automatic doors parted and let them in before she could dwell on her appearance. Ether Walker bowed — this way the Cybertronian was actually eye level with her, but that had probably been unintentional — and left her with the customary “comm me if you need anything” before going to her own quarters.

And so Llyra was left alone with her thoughts on the way to her room. Today’s activities had her wondering if the building she was in was part of Quintessa. Logically she knew most of the Cybertronian settlement in Athenia was on the Titan’s alternate mode, but what was the extent of it? Was every building a natural part of her body? Were they just built on top of her? Could Quintessa _feel_ all her residents all the time? Could Quintessa feel _her_ right now? It was at the same time fantastic and unnerving.

Her train of thought was interrupted by her tablet’s a little too loud notification noise — absolutely disgusting that she couldn’t keep it on mute while off-duty during a diplomatic visit.

She changed the display to the large television overhanging the bed for easier reading. It was a message from an unknown ID, strangely just Athenia’s general code. She opened it either way.

_Thank you for today, Little Lyre - Quintessa_

Well, _that_ was unexpected.

Llyra couldn’t help but smile. Yes, she was just a little bit unsettled — a huge city robot who didn’t bother to communicate with anyone but her two Cityspeakers taking the time to thank her, who’d imagine? — but it _was_ sweet.

“You’re welcome, big lady,” she patted the wall… which she then realised was probably rather silly, and that she had no guarantee Quintessa could hear her.

Quintessa didn’t answer, so the theory that she could feel all happening on her was off, but Llyra’s heart warmed regardless — possibly even more knowing that the walls didn’t, in fact, have ears.

Maybe she’d schedule more visits to the brain room now.


	2. Chant Royal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Llyra meets some important figures in the Athenian political scene.

The following day had Llyra walking the crystal gardens with Councilman Tarantulas, and by the Delta was he a _ride_. He closely resembled Nebulos’ own domestic arthropods and had a laugh like a witch, but it was phenomenal to hear him talk about both organic and mechanical biology. And very funny when he trailed off into his personal life.

He’d been going on for a while about an Antillan flying animal he used to have as a pet when he offhandedly mentioned something that drew her attention.

“You have a _child_?”

The finer details of Cybertronian life were lost on outsiders — Elonia and Antilla's native organics certainly knew, but didn’t bother to share —, but this, combined with all the talk of Quintessa as Athenia’s Great Mother, had her more than a little bit confused.

“I have a son, yes. First of his kind!” His mandibles chittered in mirth, “I mean, other mechs already had been guardians of naturally occurring newsparks or had sparks unstable enough to ignite new ones, but my Springer is a biotechnological marvel all on his own.”

That gave her more questions than answers. Incredible.

And so she asked for a more comprehensive explanation, which Tarantulas was thankfully all too happy to give to her:

“Our sparks are usually derived from the flares of larger, brighter sparks, like Cybertron’s own or those of Titans,” he started, “Many of Quintessa’s original crew members were ignited from her flares.”

"But your son was not.”

"He wasn’t. I discovered a few tens of vorns ago that collected flare residue from average sparks can be used to kindle new sparks if submitted to gamma radiation," his voice turned peppily major, “When Quintessa stopped being able to produce new life, my crazy experiment now wasn’t that crazy! We’ve since discovered that it’s an easier process using material from various sparks and have been managing population from incubators like that for centuries now," he laughed again, “Not that it stopped Boss Lady from spending all her time on that stupid quest.”

Tarantulas then changed the subject back to how his ex took the pet _and_ the kid in the divorce, laughing madly the entire time.

* * *

 

That was not the last that Llyra heard of this elusive quest that day.

She’d met the Cityspeakers earlier and Astral Knight was more than happy to invite her for another reading. He’d even offered to mediate a conversation, if she wanted, but whatever ease they had was lost when they got to the entrance to the brain room — someone else was already there.

Llyra easily recognised this new mech as Council Head Thunderwing, even if she’d never met her in person. Her strange elegance was as frightening as it was told — her technorganic shell looked like nothing she had ever seen before, and the teeth, claws and wings reminded Llyra of mythological monsters —, and seeing her talk to the Titan in an obscure dialect of Old Cybertronian didn’t help.

She caught maybe a couple cognates — something about a stone and _soon_ — before Astral Knight gave them away.

Thunderwing's wings flared and she stiffened.

"My apologies, I thought we were alone," her voice was stilted but polite, "I can return at another time."

"N-no, it's fine!" Astral Knight pleaded in an augmented chord, shaking his hands, "You can stay however long you want, Your Magnificence. I was just bringing Ambassador Zarak for another storytelling session."

“Oh,” Thunderwing righted herself, “I believe I failed to receive you personally, Lady Zarak.”

In a fluid but grotesque move, she stepped out of her outer shell, now standing little more than three heads taller than Llyra herself. The charismatic smile on her face was far less terrifying, less sharp, in this shape.

“It is... my pleasure to meet you, uh, Your Magnificence,” Llyra skittishly offered her hand for Thunderwing to shake.

“Mine as well. I take it you’ve become well acquainted with Our Great Mother,” her grip was firm but a little slimy as she took the invitation, never losing that diplomatic tone, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to honour her with a visit. I’m glad to see that the intern has been taking good care of the space here.”

“I’m a full Cityspeaker now, ma’am,” Astral Knight shyly added, “Have been for some three stellar cycles now.”

Thunderwing’s expression shifted, a little uneasy.

“I must’ve missed your indictment while I was questing, then. I have brought some new literature from my travels, if that serves as an apology.”

Astral Knight’s spoiler wiggled as he became excited enough about new reading materials to forgo awkward formality. Their conversation became more amicable, and Thunderwing returned to her shell — _that’ll never get less gross, will it?_ — to retrieve the texts from the armour’s subspace.

Llyra left them to it, looking around to occupy herself. Quintessa’s brain had considerably less holographic projections floating around it when she wasn’t being actively engaged, but the few that it had were relatively easy to read, with minor technical jargon that didn’t translate well.

_Diverting 🜆 flow from [Archway] B71 to [Pathways] L129, L212 and M013._

 

_“[...] A light so bright it could blind,_

_A ferocity no mech could bind.”_

 

_Electric storm incoming_

 

 _Lost/Found_  

“Oh hey, is that the _Chant of the Rising_?” Astral Knight — now with a pile of books, scrolls and tablets in his arms — interrupted himself to point at one of the projections, “Looks a little weird though. Hadn’t seen a Titan’s literary echoes be in Neocybex before.”

“Is that bad?” Llyra asked, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask Nightbird,” he gently shrunk the projection to get a look at the full text, “Weird. It’s a very rough translation. Some of the rhymes got lost on the way. Did you do this yourself, Quintessa?”

The projections gave him no answer, and rapidly changed to a version in a vernacular of Old Cybertronian.

“Alright then…” Astral Knight sheepishly looked back at them, “I’m not that good with this notation.”

“May I?” Thunderwing approached carefully, and began reciting in that same strange dialect she’d been speaking to the Titan in before.

The reading session went as normal from there, with the rumble of thunder in the background.


	3. Chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra unlocks some new knowledge about the Cybertronian Union through off-worlders and off-world events.

The storm kept on into the night.

Ether Walker walked Llyra through the tunnels in Quintessa’s underbelly back to the embassy, carefully leading her by the hand. The neon purple glow of energon lines was as far as lighting went down there, and though Cybertronians had no issue navigating in the dark it was forbidden to travel in alt mode. Llyra wasn’t clear on why until they crossed paths with a small caravan of Elonians merrily making their way through. The children of the group went directly for Ether Walker, who knelt to greet them.

“Hello, little ones,” she crooned softly in a major harmony, “You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you.”

“We’ve missed you back at the farms, Ether,” a red adult Elonian said amicably, “Are you on the clock right now?”

“I’m always on the clock, Issa. That hasn’t changed,” Ether Walker stepped back and laid her hands on Llyra’s shoulders, “This is Llyra Zarak, my new boss. Llyra, that’s Issa Lolvadi, my old boss.”

Turned out the Elonians who made Athenia their home lived mostly in the lower levels, where the artificial atmosphere was thicker — which explained why Llyra felt so weighed down: Nebulos’ own atmosphere was much thinner than this —, and so did their livestock and agriculture. There was also an Antillan community a little ways above, in the darker space near Quintessa’s transformation cog, who had their own fungus cultures. Both usually had minibots as liaisons, and Ether Walker had fulfilled that role before being reassigned to the Embassy. Now that job went to a kid named Wheelie, who was coincidentally also a bike.

The conversation lasted for long enough that eventually they got a notification saying that the storm cleared up.

That ended up being their cue to pick up the pace — it was late and, though the following day was void of any scheduled duties, it was best that Llyra got to sleep soon.

* * *

 

She woke up to another distressingly loud message tone. It was maybe dawn — nights were longer in this misshapen planetoid, thankfully —, and the only other noise in hearing range was the ambient hum that everything Cybertronian had. Llyra rolled over in the soft Ciavine silk sheets and reached for her tablet.

It was Quintessa again. This time she’d sent the full text of that Neocybex snippet from the _Chant of the Rising_. Astral Knight had been right in that some of the form didn’t transliterate well, but now at least Llyra could understand that it was a story of some sort.

Highlighted was that chorused phrase that had sounded so ominous repeated in Thunderwing’s voice. _Interesting_.

Llyra figured she wouldn’t be able to get any more sleep, so she went about getting ready for the day. It was impressive just how adequate to Nebulans all the furnishings of the Embassy were — even the food, completely alien, was perfectly edible and nutritious —, which she suspected had to do with Delta Magnus’ long tenure observing and protecting her planet.

She met Ether Walker downstairs in the sitting room. Her aide had her legs propped up on the coffee table as she drank her morning energon and read something on her datapad.

“Good morning, Ether,” Llyra greeted her as she took her own seat on the smaller, Nebulan-sized chair, “What are you reading?”

“News,” Ether Walker answered, enraptured, “Antilla is having a vampire scandal, apparently.”

“A _what_ scandal?”

“Energon vampires. You know, when a creature gets their nourishment from draining members of their own species of their vital fluids?” Ether Walker looked up, genuinely confused, “Do your people not have those?”

“We… don’t. There are a few plants in Nebulos that do that, I think, but not… people,” To say that Llyra was off-put by that would be an understatement. She _wasn’t_ briefed on this back home. “Is this… normal, for your kind?”

“A... little? I can explain the biology to you if you want,” she offered, “I’m not a specialist or anything, but I know a thing or two.”

“...Sure, go ahead,” Llyra shifted in her chair, “I’m here to learn, so might as well.”

“So, uh, you see how most of the mechs here have wide crusher teeth?” Ether Walker pulled at the corner of her mouth to showcase her own, “These are in response to the availability of crystal energon. Ankmor is a crystal mine, so Quintessa itself, the mechs born from her and us who were built after have these. These are not the only type of teeth Cybertronians can have, though.

“Some places, like the Sonic Canyons and the Darklands, have mostly reserves of liquid energon. To tear through the metal of either other mechanoids or of Cybertron itself, mechs from these places have sharp serrated teeth that point sideways. Lady Thunderwing’s outer shell has those to complement her irreducible form’s crushers and aid her in her time out in deep space.”

“And how does this relate to these ‘vampires’?” Llyra leaned closer, intrigued.

“Well, the colonists in Antilla were originally from the Sonic Canyons and have those slasher teeth, but the energon deposits made by Antilla’s microbiota are overwhelmingly solid… and also dark red for some reason,” she trailed off, “Never found out why, though. Probably has to do with the whole orbiting a black hole thing. Uhhh, anyway.

“Nemesis, their Titan, can consume that solid energon pretty easily, so plenty of mechs just tap on her energon lines, but sometimes someone gets the itch and _that_ happens,” Ether shrugged, “There’s plenty of horror tales about Nemesis Spawn, but they’re overall just regular mechs.”

“That’s… very interesting,” and a little disgusting, but Llyra wouldn’t say that, “Any other eye-catching headlines?”

“Not really, just some gossip about the Prime of the Darklands’ love life,” Ether Walker scrolled down on her datapad, “And for local news they’re scraping the crystals out from under the theatre."

“Um, that reminds me,” Llyra offered her own tablet, still with Quintessa’s message open, “We read this poem in the brain room yesterday, but I didn’t get some of the references.”

“Alright,” Ether skimmed the screen, “the _Chant_ is pretty dense, in a literary sense, so I might not be much help, but I’ll give it a shot. What do you wanna know?”

She said as if she hadn’t just given her a whole biology lesson, but Llyra decided to go straight to the heart of the matter: the  _Chant_ 's chorus.

“What are the Artifacts of the Rise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "scandal" in Antilla mentioned in the second part WILL be followed up on soon.  
> Also no, the Artifacts in this series have nothing to do with IDW2's Rise.


	4. Flyting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Llyra has a few questions answered, and many more asked.

“I’m… really not the best bot to ask about that,” Ether Walker balked, the tires on her shoulders spinning in vain, “But they are commonly known nowadays as the Artifacts of the Primes, if that helps.”

“Uh huh,” Llyra rested her face on her crossed hands, “Is there someone else I could ask about it, then?”

“Lady Thunderwing knows the most about them, but you’d probably get more answers from Proxima and her team,” she answered tersely, “Can’t guarantee she’ll be nice about it, though.”

“I can live with the curiosity if it's too sensitive a topic," Llyra assured, "You can have secrets, you know?"

“It… _is_ kind of a sensitive topic,” Ether hummed a funny harmonic, “But, like, we brought you here to demystify what your people know about us. You can ask as much as you’d like.”

They fell into silence. Llyra fiddled with her hands as Ether Walker slurped the rest of her energon.

“Anyway,” she finally said, standing up, “I think we ought to get _you_ some breakfast now.”

* * *

 

Proxima wasn’t available for a visit — away at Harmonex working her cinematography side job —, but Greenlight happened to have some free time in second shift and agreed to come over. She had a pleasant personality — polite and soft-spoken but with an unmistakable youthful fire behind her eyes — and a friendly acquaintanceship with Ether Walker as a consequence of their shared training in handling nonmechanical life, Greenlight as a biologist and Ether as a diplomat. 

Their playing catch-up lasted several breems and gave Llyra time to browse through the _Chant_ a little more. By the time they joined her in the sitting room, she had her questions lined up perfectly. 

“Sorry for the delay, I had to pry Lancer off the data terminal before her optics burned out,” Greenlight smiled, and took the seat Ether Walker pulled for her, “I understand you’ve got some questions about the Artifacts of the Primes?”

“It’s fine! But yes, I know it’s not your expertise or anything, but Ether said you could help,” Llyra smiled, “I mostly just want to know what they are? I understand from the _Chant of the Rising_ that they’ve caused much strife among your people, but I’m not really clear on what they actually are.”

“Well,” Greenlight bit her lip, “Their nature _is_ a bit complicated. They have sparks, like us, and seem to have a degree of sapience and sentience, but they are mostly inert, like your organic plants. I’ve been meaning to do some studies on that, actually, but we kinda don’t _have_ our Artifact right now.” 

“What do you mean you don’t have your artifact?” Llyra leaned forward, inquisitive. “The _Chant_ says they’re really safeguarded.”

“They… _are_ ,” Greenlight’s face scrunched up, “Only mechs _chosen_ by the Artifacts can handle them, and ours was lost when we lost our Prime. That’s what Thunderwing’s always out there doing; looking for it. Anyway, back to your question; they’re just these super powerful ancient mechanoids with special powers they can’t activate on their own, and who’ll smite anyone who tries to use them that they don’t like, thus building up the Prime myth around the few mechs that could carry them. Is that good?”

Llyra blinked. That… was at the same time wilder and more mundane than she expected. She had nothing to add to that, so she just proceeded to her next question:

“The poem says the first were crowned by fire, what does that mean?”

“It’s less dramatic than it sounds, I promise,” Greenlight laughed, “Discovering you’re compatible with an Artifact is generally pretty flashy. When the Requiem Blaster chose Rodimus Prime the quasar light could be seen from _orbit_ , I’ve heard.”

“What’s the ‘strife’ from the rest of the stanza, then?”

“Many mechs _want_ to be compatible. It can be quite fiery as well when they’re too pushy about it,” her voice went dark, but quickly lilted up again, “Which is another thing I wanna look into! Whoever has our Emberstone now _probably_ was able to kill Quintus with the fallout of the rejection, which seems absolutely _fascinating_.”

Ether Walker, who’d been silently hearing them talk, hummed an ultrasonic diminished chord to Greenlight, making an exasperated gesture.

“I… sorry, I get carried away a little,” she smiled, “Do you have any more questions?”

* * *

 

The session with Greenlight had Llyra thinking deeply that evening. _Greenlight_ had her thinking deeply, actually. Over the course of the conversation she’d managed to unintentionally discover a little too many things, each and every one not exactly off-topic, but always a little bizarre.

First, the Artifacts could and often would have their own flares and coronal mass ejections, resulting in brand new sparks to be placed in either sentio metallico or a pre-constructed body. Greenlight herself had been the sole mech to be forged from the Emberstone’s last flare before its loss. 

Second, no one actually _knew_ what killed Quintus Prime, or even if he was really dead. They’d just _assumed_ , considering the loss of communication — their Prime, apparently, had been a rather chatty fellow — and the sickly flash of green that had been observed around his last known location.

Third, Thunderwing was possibly going _crazy_ in her quest to recover the Emberstone. She’d been neglecting government work for vorns now, and the other council members saw her mostly as a figure head.

_Delta_ , she could not even list how many strange facts Greenlight bombarded her with — and would have continued, had Ether Walker not interfered some two joors into the conversation, arguing that Llyra needed to have dinner. And that wasn’t even counting the questions that conspicuous phrasing gave her, the impression of there being _more_ that she wasn’t being told.

For the first time, Llyra thought she might’ve been a little in over her head. Transformer life wasn’t just obscure, it was _strange_ and a little terrifying, and no amount of sweet music and pretty crystals could mask that.

Llyra moved quietly through the Embassy, on the tips of her toes. She was going to get her answers, and if she had to do some undiplomatic things to get them, so be it.


	5. Madrigal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quintessa tells a story.

Making her way through the city on her own for the first time, at  _ night _ no less, was more than a little bit terrifying. Everything was so large, scaled for creatures that averaged at four or five times her size, and the scarce lighting made it feel even larger. She followed the glowing outlines of the streets back to the ramp leading down into the brain room, trying not to jump at the sound of passing vehicles.

It was nothing short of a miracle that Llyra managed to reach her destination undeterred.

Here the darkness felt more familiar, kept at bay by the glowing energon lines, biolights and the reflections on the shining metal surfaces. In the silence of the night, the soft sounds of whirring machinery were clearer than they’d ever been.

The projections acknowledged her presence with a little lag, forming into half words and unfinished phrases before settling into three set lower than most.

 

_ Little Lyre  why here? _

_ 3rd shift + 1.6813 joors _

_ Majority: rest cycle _   
  


Llyra inhaled sharply, a little unsure now, but still gathered the courage to talk:

“You’ve been contacting me. I... don’t really understand why.”

She sat on the floor by the brain, just far enough not to be under it — it made her feel less out of her depth.

“I think you want me to figure something out, and everyone has been  _ great _ at answering all the stupid questions I throw their way, but every time someone tells me something it feels like I know less than I did before. But  _ you _ know so much more than everyone here. And I don’t think you have a reason to lie,” Llyra sighed, looking down at her lap, “Please tell me I’m not just going crazy.”

The projections didn’t answer her, but someone else did.

“Are you sure you’re ready to experience the knowledge and wisdom of a Titan?,” Nightbird said, level and calm, as she slid out of the darkness, “It might not come in a form comprehensible to you.”

“I didn’t…” Llyra balked, “I didn’t see you there.”

“I wasn’t here,” the Cityspeaker moved to sit with her, careful with the difference in size, “Mother summoned me, similar to how she must have done to you. It’s symbiotic; I’m always at her disposal.”

“Alright, uh, I’d… can you help me? With the consulting?”

Nightbird hummed a soft major tune and raised her hands to call for the projections. Following was an explosion of colour and sound — all normal and within parametres, Nightbird’s calmness told her — and soon enough all turned to song.

It started out a hopeful composition, full of joy and wonder. Nightbird began chanting — frantically, almost as if possessed — a tale of a scientific expedition headed by Quintus Prime, thousands of vorns ago. Llyra recognised parts of it from the poem Quintessa had her read in her first visit, but now with added context it seemed more like a travel log.

It told of many stops along planets wild and not, cataloguing lifeforms and technology. It told of the teleportation that aided the travels, space bridge technology invented by Quintus himself. It told of new creatures, both mechanical and organic in nature, made real by the power of the Emberstone.

And then the key changed.

These new technorganics, coming in a myriad of forms and named simply a demonym for the Titan they were native to, weren’t contented with living harmoniously with their fellow Quintessons — they wanted something  _ more _ . The Emberstone, they reasoned, would raise them to their ultimate power. 

The composition trailed off into a frantic tremolo, then a glissando spanning three whole octaves. Nightbird ceased her reciting for a long section, letting Quintessa’s — and Quintus’ — anxiety and sorrow and  _ fear _ echo through this solo.

The tempo became more measured, less emotional, and Nightbird began speaking again, telling of Quintus Prime’s plan to hide the Artifact. He’d searched far and wide for a planet and a people worthy of holding the Emberstone, and finally came across a worthy candidate. He picked a small shuttle and, alone, set out to ferry the stone to its new resting place, but he was followed— and the music petered out.

“We’ve never seen neither Quintus nor a technorganic Quintesson after that,” Nightbird said hoarsely, or as hoarse as a mechanism could sound, “Not even Quintessa knows the coordinates to wherever he might’ve gone. We’ve seen the flash though, and Thunderwing has been tracking for as long as we’ve settled on this miserable rock.”

Llyra had never seen such raw emotion from a Cybertronian before, much less from the drone-like Cityspeaker. Her first thought after this magnificent madrigal was that maybe she should have heeded Nightbird’s warning — the Titan’s memory was  _ so much _ .

“I… I’m sorry. I feel like I ought to say more than that, but… I don’t know what.”

“Don’t strain yourself looking for platitudes. You must not forget that we've shown you this not out of sentimentality, but because Quintessa thinks you might know  _ something  _ about the unknown part of this picture,” Nightbird’s voice recovered, but did not lose the edge from before, “Think hard about it, Nebulan. You might find you know more than you imagine.”

 

* * *

 

Llyra found herself sneaking back into the Embassy after promising Nightbird to sleep on all this and bring her answers when she had them. She wasn’t exactly excited for any of it.

The information she’d gotten tonight was heavy, and a little too much to digest — it’d certainly take her days process what all of that meant and how it related to her —, but now she knew more rested upon her investigations than her mere curiosity. And that was scary.

But not more scary than suddenly being grabbed by a panicked Ether Walker as soon as she made her way inside.

“ _ Where were you? _ ” Ether Walker’s harmonics were dissonant and her internal fans roaring — yet another surprising show of emotion by these living mechanisms.

“Y-You’re squeezing too hard,” Llyra gasped out, wiggling against the hand holding her by the armpits.

All of Ether Walker went silent, even the whirring, as she slowly deposited Llyra back on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I could get fired for this,” she sank to her knees, hands clutched tight in her lap, “You’re still telling me where in the sixteen planets you were off to.”

Llyra tentatively took one of Ether Walker’s spindly hands — big enough to span Llyra’s entire torso, but still thin and delicate — and held it between her own.

“I am, I promise. In the morning, though. I’m super sleepy, and you look like you could also use some downtime.”

And so Llyra got a second line of thought to sleep on that night:  _ How much could she tell Ether Walker? _


	6. Soliloquy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations take a toll, and not only on Llyra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took too long to churn out but i'm still trucking

Sleep was fitful that night, haunted by dreams of strange creatures and flashes of heat and light. The last bit of the nightmare had a tentacled creature with terrifying spinning masks for faces reach out— 

Llyra awoke breathing hard and clutching her throat. 

It was a little under a joor into first shift, and the distant red light of Greyhound came faintly through the blinds. The ambient humming noise of machinery was the same as ever, but it felt stifling in a way it never had before.

She took some time to compose herself with some breathing exercises she’d learnt in her times playing reeds — that should be enough to shake the nightmares out — and went about getting ready for the day.

It gave her time to think. To think about technorganics, and living stones, and live-giving forces. An itch of recognition plagued her brain, but she could not for the life of her scratch it at the right angle. Nebulos had many myths — Llyra had parsed through more bibliography than she cared to have in lyrical studies — and something rang true in that vein of research, but  _ what _ precisely eluded her.

The pressing concern of Ether Walker also wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d already been plaguing the poor mech with questions, would it be prudent to continue? To open up about where questioning had led her? It certainly didn't seem harder than coming up with a lie, and with the panic she’d shown the previous night Llyra doubted that a lie would deter her.

Her line of thought was broken by a ring on her door.

A rattling Ether Walker waited on the other side, and, before Llyra could come up with something to say about the previous night, quietly and stiffly relayed her message:

“Lady Thunderwing wishes to speak with you.”

 

* * *

 

The ride to Athenia’s capitol was painfully silent, no word said by either Llyra or Ether Walker, and the tension was so thick Llyra’s scales itched from the electromagnetic field put out by Ether Walker. Not that Llyra was unaffected — being called on by the planetary leader after some relatively minor rule-breaking and obtention of mind-shattering secrets was  _ scary _ — in fact, she felt like she could cry from accumulated stress, and she hoped Athenians were unfamiliar enough with Nebulans not to notice.

Ether Walker left her with a stilted instruction to just go in, since Thunderwing’s home had no security or personnel whatsoever. 

It looked everything but lived in, which made sense, considering its resident didn’t really stay there. Trinkets of alien make littered every surface, laying haphazardly like they were just left in the closest available space and never organised any time after. Most of the furniture was sized for smaller mecha, which made perfect sense with Thunderwing’s outer shell standing at the corner of the entry room.

She followed the muffled sound of conversation down the hallway and into the room at its very end, where a red and white mech with the markings of a health professional knelt before the padded foam bed, admonishing its occupant.

“—careless! This could be dangerous for  _ all of us _ . For a moment, please consider— Oh! Hello, little organic,” the mech turned to her with a jovial smile, but there was some residual frustration in her harmonics.

“I was summoned?” Llyra shifted uneasily as the medic tried to keep Thunderwing from leaving the bed. 

Ultimately, she couldn’t stop her. 

“Doctor Minerva, why don’t you leave us alone for a bit, yes?” Thunderwing dusted herself off, still leaning against her bed, “These are important matters.”

Minerva bristled, and left with a microtonal promise to be back.

Thunderwing looked down at Llyra with an affable smile and beckoned her closer. Llyra tried to identify signs of sickness as she complied — how did illness manifest in mechanicals? -, but that left her careless.

Her eyes widened as Thunderwing moved in a flash and lifted her up by the scruff of her neck. Thunderwing’s face remained cordial and serene, but there was a distinct edge when she spoke:

“You have no idea what you’re uncovering, do you?

Llyra didn’t dare move, or answer. She didn’t, in fact, have any idea. And that hold physiologically rendered her body limp, though that might’ve been Thunderwing’s intention.

“I will give you an idea then,”  _ there it was _ , “You are not here, running around asking questions, as a coincidence. My Council trusted that you’d be able to piece things together on your own, that it’d be more  _ organic _ to let that happen. They didn’t consult me. They never consult me anymore.

Thunderwing continued her rant, timbre scratchy and painful like denting metal. She was frustrated — with the Council of Scientists, with herself —, and so,  _ so _ sure that Nebulos held secrets that would lead her to victory. Llyra couldn’t fault her reasoning — didn’t know quite enough to —, and every word felt like a slap to the face of something bigger than them both.

“And imagine my surprise to find out they’ve  _ known _ for almost as long as Delta Magnus has stationed himself to observe your kind. You are very important, Llyra Zarak. But I ask of you just one thing: share your every finding with me. Return to your home when you're done with ours, and find our Relic. Because it  _ is _ in Nebulos. And I don’t trust Magnus to freely give it to me."

At that, Thunderwing dropped her, and let out a pained creaking noise. She composed herself quickly, and the cordial smile returned to her face.

"Call Minerva back in, would you? I think we're finished here."


	7. Free Verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some tension gets resolved, but the Council has their hands in more pies than anticipated.

Ether Walker sat dejectedly on the steps to Thunderwing’s house when Llyra finally made her way out. She was still as a sculpture but for her idly spinning wheels and hadn’t noticed her presence until Llyra lightly touched her shoulder. Ether Walker twitched to action and onto her feet faster than the eye could see, looking absolutely embarrassed.

She transformed wordlessly, still radiating anxiety, and Llyra gave her handlebar a soothing stroke. She assured Ether Walker that they’d finally have that talk when they got back in a soft whisper, hoping it would help.

The ride was smoother this time.

 

* * *

 

They were in the sublevels again — Ether Walker said she felt more comfortable there —, and the soft light of Quintessa’s thick energon lines set a somber yet cozy mood over their conversation.

Llyra had begun with a very loaded question; whether Ether Walker was aware of the Council's strategy. The answer was more straightforward than she expected:

"I… Yeah, I did know. I'm not going to lie to you, I  _ hate _ when things are this slow, but Tomaandi values the  _ process _ way too much,” she rambled, "I love teaching. I can actually do it without feeling like I'm dragging my feet when it's not quick. But this isn't about  _ you _ to them."

Ether Walker paused, staring off into the wall, but snapped back quickly with hissing hydraulics.

“I’m not saying this is  _ evil _ , though. It’s just really convoluted and weird.”

"Does… Does Quintessa know?" Llyra softly touched the wall, looking up into the energon lights, “She and Nightbird were much straighter with me last night than anyone else here has been.”

"So  _ that’s  _ where you went," Ether Walker’s lips quirked into a smile, “Mother shares all her knowledge with the Cityspeakers. If you haven't heard it from Astral Knight, you can assume she doesn't.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you, I was just really overwhelmed with Greenlight and wanted some straight answers,” Llyra sighed, "Instead I just got even  _ more _ overwhelming information."

Ether Walker lowered her wheels, radiating compassion. 

"Would you like to learn some more normal information?"

 

* * *

 

Ether took her through the tunnels to the dark chambers surrounding the city's transformation cog. The artificial atmosphere was thinner than it had been when they crossed paths with the Elonians, as Ether had mentioned before, but it was cloyed with moisture. Shining formations of crystals laid on the walls, together with what seemed to be glowing organic growths that meshed together with them almost seamlessly just as the organic chatter with the sounds of Quintessa’s internals. 

Little creatures scampered in the dark around their feet, and Ether Walker bowed to take one in hand with utmost care.

"This is a stinglizard," she explained, "Some stowed away in the Antillan ships and now the entire middle levels are overrun with them."

"It's beautiful!" And it  _ was _ , a striped little creature with six legs, large eyes and an arched tail. It had a subtle red glow to it, and it dimmed as it skittered down Ether Walker’s arm.

"They're very skittish, but they take well to mechs," she let it jump into the ground and it crawled up the wall, "They're great at finding energon. Tarantulas is working on breeding a strain that needs less and less atmosphere to survive so we can use them for scouting."

"A use that the Antillans did not agree with," a dissonant voice sounded from above, yellow optics glowing from the shadows. The thin air shifted as a winged mech swooped down and landed gracefully before them, "Not that  _ Tarantulas _ would care about that."

Ether Walker did not even flinch, but kept a pacifying hand on Llyra’s shoulder.

"Nice of you to come welcome us, Convobat."

"You're in my realm, it's my duty to see to any…  _ visitors _ ," Convobat looked them over curiously, but not without a hint of mistrust, "After all, the Antillan community holds so many little treasures."

"I'm not  _ stealing _ any of your critters, Bat. I'm organic relations, just like you," Ether Walker defended in a strong major ninth, "It's my duty to show Ambassador Zarak the colony,  _ and _ explain how it functions."

Convobat narrowed her optics, but extended Llyra a far too big hand — not too much bigger than Ether Walker’s, but blunter and thicker — and spoke as if smiling, though her mouth was not visible:

"I might be able to give you a better tour. Definitely a less  _ biased _ one."

Ether Walker groaned, but chose not to argue. She turned the choice over to Llyra, leaning in close for privacy.

"Do you wanna go with the Bat? It could be… illuminating."

Llyra took Convobat's hand and took a moment to look back at Ether Walker worriedly before looking up at the batformer with a terse smile.

 

* * *

 

She needn’t have worried. Convobat was eerie, irreverent, and blatantly held contempt for the Council she served, but she was gentle and cared deeply for the beings that lived in what Llyra learnt was called the Coglands. It was fascinating to hear inflammatory speeches mingled with softly spoken scientific and cultural notes.

And it turned out Convobat wasn’t even really the Coglands’ official liaison. She was a civil servant of some sort, yes — which sort exactly, Convobat conspicuously danced around —, but her role as protector of organic life was entirely self-imposed.

“They call to me,” she explained, “I may be… from here, but I feel a kinship with them that I have not found elsewhere since my… friend left for brighter stars.” Her voice was fond, but sad in a minor seventh over that personal tidbit and she fell silent for a while after it. She looked down at Llyra with an intense stare, “I will protect these beings’ autonomy for as long as I live, you’d best do that for your people too. Primus knows you’ll have to”

Llyra froze like the tiny prey animal she wasn’t. Delta Magnus had protected her people for untold millennia, and the whispers had always been there that maybe, just maybe, he had ulterior motives for doing so, but the great majority of the population regarded him as godly — Delta,  _ Llyra _ wasn’t immune to taking his name in vain —, and to hear something so ominous from one of his kind was terrifying.

But Convobat didn’t let her dwell on it, snapping back to presenting her self-proclaimed domain and urging Llyra to try the glowing lichens.


	8. Sonnet

Resting in the Embassy after the voyage through the Coglands wasn’t any more peaceful than it had been after Greenlight, though this time Llyra did not make a break for it. Rather, she settled calmly in her room with the bowl of lichens Convobat gifted her and dialed home.

The technology to communicate through cosmic distances had been a gift from Delta Magnus, perfected by Arcana, and, though now the purpose of such a gift seemed iffy, it had served Nebulos well in its integration with other intelligent life throughout the galaxy.

It took a few minutes for it to connect, but soon enough Llyra had a direct line open to her fiancé, who greeted her with that beautiful smile she loved so much and a soft touch to the screen.

"It's so good to see you," she smiled back, soft look in her eyes, "I have so much to tell you."

And much she really did. Galen wasn’t just her lover, he was the leader of Nebulos' World Watchers, and was sure to have insight regarding the situation with the missing Artifact.

That didn’t stop them from having a quick upbeat catch up session, though. Nebulos hadn’t much in the way of important news, but it was nice to hear about friends and family after a long time away. She told him about Ether Walker, the Elonians, the stinglizards, the Cityspeakers… but there was only so long it could remain lighthearted. 

"I don’t know what I’m doing here, I wasn’t trained for all this,” Llyra remembered when getting to the subject of Quintessa, “I’m afraid this is more than a simple social call.”

“I will not hold it against you if it is, love. You know I tried to argue for a larger crew on your mission. Whatever help you need, I will provide the best that I can.”

And so she explained to him about Quintessa’s wail, Quintus’ mystery, Thunderwing’s madness, the Council’s plot, and Convobat’s warning. And all the roads of these troubles ran back to the Emberstone.

“I’m not sure  _ what _ it could be, but they’re so certain that we have it and I don’t know how far they’d go to get it back,” Llyra confided, “This is  _ terrifying _ , Galen.”

"Delta... Llyra…" Galen sounded like the air had been knocked out of him, "I'll have to inform the Hive, your  _ father _ … We can't let you stay there."

“I really appreciate it, love, but I’m  _ really _ the last person you should be worried about right now. They won't hurt me, I promise, but I am very worried about Nebulos if I don't suddenly find out where the Emberstone could be."

Galen fell silent, like in deep thought. Terror was still evident on his face, and Llyra wished for nothing more than to soothe him, but she knew she couldn’t right now.

"I might know…  _ something _ ," he finally said, grimacing like it pained him to reveal it, "The irradiated meteorite in the University. There have been many strange phenomena related to it that never made it much farther than security reports to my World Watchers. I can’t be  _ sure _ it is what the Athenians want, but I could ask Delta Magnus about it."

Llyra let out an emphatic “Don’t!” before collecting herself, remembering that you couldn’t just call into question  _ Delta Magnus _ . “Just… send me the reports, I’ll go over them with Thunderwing or whoever else here if I must.”

"I… will," Galen replied warily, "Please take care of yourself, sweetheart."

"I will, I promise."

 

* * *

Morning came along with a true barrage of reports from the University. To say that Llyra was overwhelmed by them would be a bit of an exaggeration, but there were still  _ so many _ . She sent a notice to Thunderwing — essentially an overly formal "hey, how ya doin', I got some newz 4 u" — first thing after reading through the summaries, and stashed the files safely in a locked-access folder.

Today’s programme had more meetings with Council mechs, especially one Scorponok whom her father had much talked about. He had been the one to first express interest in Nebulos, namely in terms of scientific collaboration, though by now Llyra had her suspicions. It should be an interesting meeting.

Downstairs, Ether Walker waited with her head over her crossed arms on the Cybertronian-sized table, lightly dozing. Or so it seemed — Llyra had never seen a Cybertronian sleep. Maybe yesterday had taken a bigger toll on her aide than it appeared at the time.

Some sort of proximity sensors must’ve activated though, because her optics sluggishly opened and flashed brighter as soon as Llyra stepped into the room.

“Is everything… alright?” Llyra asked as she approached, slow and unsure.

“Uhh, yeah?” Ether Walker’s vocals glitched a little and she made a face, but shook it off just as quickly, “Did you eat already? I left it ready before I… yeah.”

“Oh no, I just got here! You could sit with me while I eat?”

Turned out that Ether Walker hadn’t eaten either, if the bowl of crystals she prepared for herself before joining Llyra in the sitting room was any indication. Her movements were slow and jerky, Llyra couldn’t help but notice as she downed the alien breads and cheeses, like something was off with her mechanics. Tiredness, perhaps? It was probably a little insensitive of Llyra, but that was very interesting to witness. Delta Magnus would never appear with such lack of composure, and the experience of Athenia only made her memories of Nebulos’ guardian more and more eerie and uncomfortable.

“You’re… already finished, are you not?” Ether Walker interrupted her thought process, and Llyra realised she’d been feeling the plate looking for a third sandwich.

“Sorry, I was just… I’m a little bit tired,” Llyra shook her head, sending away any questioning thoughts.

“I do imagine you would be. Heavier atmospheres tend to do that to organics, I’ve seen.”

And no mention was made of Ether Walker’s own tiredness, nor of what could’ve caused it, as she got into happily reciting little anecdotes about her time working with the Elonians while Llyra put on her boots and circlet, readying herself to leave.


	9. Sneakernet

If she’d thought Tarantulas was strange, Scorponok came as a close second — seriously what was it with this planet’s leaders? Objectively, Llyra knew Athenia was a wacky technocracy, but every single member of its high government she met just gave her a headache. She dreaded immensely having to go over Galen’s reports with Thunderwing, though she tried to imagine what the Rector Magnifica must’ve been like before all this. Probably already a tiny bit deranged, now that she thought about it.

But  _ Scorponok _ , seriously, he gave her the chills. He was interested, supremely so, in what Nebulos could offer, and half of his dialogue was completely  _ unintelligible _ to laymen. Tarantulas had been outlandish, yes, but at least she could understand most of his words, independently if not together. Also the… uncomfortable focus on organic reproduction.

“Councilman Tarantulas told me his method was very well and widely accepted throughout the Union, though.” Llyra said cautiously, a tiny bit confused and disgusted at what little she could glean from Scorponok’s spiel about his dabbling in technorganics. “Why would you need another one?”

Scorponok smiled, mirthless.

“In all respect, Tarantulas is a fool. His method is far too reliant on nonliving technology; it is not self-sustaining. Its chances of taking are much, much slimmer than those of natural ignition. Organic reproduction has a much higher success rate than  _ any _ current form of mechanoid reproduction, even though that of survival is significantly diminished.” He clicked his pincers once, twice before looking down on them and firmly clamping them shut. He looked back to Llyra, leaning forward in his chair. “I have talked to many organic worlds about studying their biota and, unfortunately, many declined. Prima and Beta Maxx also will not allow me to conduct experiments on neither Elonians nor Antillans, but Delta Magnus allowed me to establish communication with Lord Zarak to make this same request of your kind. I trust you’ve been informed of that?”

“Not in such words, no,” Llyra stiffly held her arms together, trying not to pick up Scorponok’s tics, “I am on a mission to learn and relay back to my world how  _ your _ kind operates before we can firm any contracts or alliances. I was not told of possible experimentation on us.”

It would be very on-brand for her father to make such agreements, though. Mortilus Zarak was a pragmatist, and did not think much of possibly sacrificing some lives for great achievement. He cared greatly for Nebulos and for his family, Llyra could not fault him for that, but she had her objections to his methods. Still, she was an artist of the most scientific kind, sent here because of her familial connections and because  _ Cybertronians are artsy, are they not _ , and it wasn’t within her authority to make decisions Lord Zarak wouldn’t make.

She could still raise her questions, though, and her father and the rest of the Hive and World Watchers would not hear the end of it until Llyra’s concerns were addressed.

“How would you go about this research, if you were to get access to Nebulan volunteers, though? I can’t imagine it’d be easy to translate organic biological processes into mechanic, much less in a… self-sustaining way,” she asked, keeping an eye close to the disgruntled shine to Scorponok’s visor.

“The answer lies with our technorganic siblings, the true and proper Quintessons. I admit that I do not have… access to any at the moment, but I have enough compiled files from Prime regarding their functioning, from when they were first created. Comparative studies, biomechanical engineering and CNA alterations should be enough to viabilise prototypes in the form of newly constructed mechs.”

Llyra wasn’t going to pretend she understood what he meant, but nodded regardless.

“I’ll have to consult with Arcana and Kari before firming any contracts. If you’d be so kind as to draft a written proposal…?”

Scorponok agreed, and took to typing in his data terminal, and Llyra finally had time to panic. She’d  _ completely _ forgotten about the technorganics when reporting to Galen.

 

* * *

Proposal on hand, Llyra prepared herself mentally for her first visit to the brain room since the revelation. Thunderwing had scheduled it for her, apparently — whatever her objectives, Thunderwing seemed to value Quintessa’s wisdom much more than what little Llyra had seen of the Councillors —, and it wouldn’t be in good form not to attend. Besides, Quintessa was  _ nice _ , as much as a giant incomprehensible city-shaped entity could be, anyway.

It’d been a relief when she saw that the Cityspeaker on shift this time was Astral Knight — Llyra wasn’t ready to face Nightbird’s intensity again quite yet. He animatedly greeted her, a dazzling grin on his face. He’d been reading Quintessa the new books Thunderwing had brought, he told her in a peppy suspended fourth. 

His enthusiasm was contagious, apparently. The projections floating around the Titan’s brain glowed in soft pastel colours and, though their contents weren’t exactly legible, it changed the atmosphere drastically from the last time Llyra had been there. It even made Thunderwing’s monstrous face seem less harsh.

She stood silently with eyes closed and Llyra could scarcely imagine what Thunderwing was doing. Astral Knight was not keen on interrupting, apparently, pressing a finger to his lips as they entered the chamber, though he still vibrated with excitement.

“I can hear you, Cityspeaker.”

Astral Knight stiffened comically and Llyra didn’t know whether to be amused or scared. Thunderwing just had that effect on people even when she was at her most calm and serene, Llyra thought when the mountain of a woman called her title and she couldn’t help but stiffen as well.

“You have things to tell us, do you not? I’m sure Mother would like to hear as well.”

“I… I don’t think I can go over them all with you, Your Magnificence,” Llyra said, looking up to the armour’s grotesque face, “The files are very extensive, and I haven’t had enough time to parse them all. They’re in this pad; you should be able to use it in your irreducible form or plug it into another.”

Thunderwing made a muffled noise — displeased, perhaps —, but took the tablet in long, careful talons without making any further comments.

A shrill beeping noise did comment, though, and soon Astral Knight was frantically sliding his fingers through projections to soothe the angry Titan.

“I’m so sorry. It’s just— Can you read one of your, uh, whatever they are to her? She doesn’t like feeling left out.”


	10. Declaration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeahhhhhh i'm sorry for this taking 3+ months instead of one, i had a lot in mind as you can see by the sheer amount of other fics i've been churning out. anyway. chapter 10 is here

Thunderwing took well to the reports, it seemed. She was content in reading them to Quintessa alone, discussing in Ankmorian Vernacular with the projections without any input from Astral Knight at all. The young Cityspeaker stood uselessly, fingers twitching like he was  _ dying  _ to do something. Llyra shared his anxiety — she had yet to be dismissed, and she  _ really _ didn't want to stand by as Thunderwing went through almost a century of accounts.

“Fascinating,” she heard Thunderwing comment in Neocybex, and whatever that might have referred to sent a chill up Llyra’s spine. Wacky world leaders being fascinated by your resources never bode well.

The brain’s lights pulsed brighter than usual. Seemingly Quintessa was also interested.

“What— What is fascinating, Your Magnificence?” Astral Knight stammered; so,  _ so _ anxious. 

Thunderwing paid him no mind, and Llyra could practically feel something snap in him.

“Rector, I can and will  _ ban you _ from the brain room if you won’t let me do my job.”

A soft minor seventh harmony sounded from the brain, and Thunderwing paused, closing her optics and shaking her head.

“These are matters beyond your comprehension, Cityspeaker.”

Astral Knight looked just about ready to lunge, but then Thunderwing continued with a hint of a smile:

“But I suppose I can tell you that our Mother will soon fly again.”

Somehow that didn’t bide as well to Llyra.

 

* * *

She was dismissed shortly after, as she had yet one more meeting to attend before her day was done and she could call home to report her suspicions and maybe give her father a piece of her mind.

Ether Walker pointed out animatedly that this should be “a fun one”, in her words. Llyra was far from considering any of these meetings fun at this point, but she allowed the aide her amusement — no point making it known that she was growing sick of this place and the plans its inhabitants had for her world.

Councillor Magnificus had an office on the city’s surface, but had asked her to meet him in his personal quarters, deep in the Titan’s innards and not far from the Coglands. Llyra had bad feelings about meeting influential figures in their private spaces, but Ether Walker assured her there was a very good reason for it.

The reason made itself known right when they arrived, as they were greeted by an organic that was neither Antillan nor Elonian. They had white hair like Llyra herself, but where she had green and blue scales they had pale pink flesh, with no tail. Llyra had never seen anything quite like them in her studies.

“Ambassador Zarak, yes?” They asked in a soft, bird-like voice, a polite smile on their face. “I am Ga'mede of Xeptos. It is with great pleasure my partner and I welcome you to our home.” They — no,  _ he _ , by his choice of personal pronoun — bowed before her and stepped aside to let them in.

Or let  _ her _ in, in any case. Ether Walker remained outside, waving her off when Llyra turned to wait for her.

The Councillor's home had austere decoration and furniture in wildly varying sizes, from that of a regular Transformer to that of Llyra's finger, fascinatingly.

The set of armchairs Ga'mede led her to was perfectly sized for a Nebulan, and the mech sitting in one of them — Magnificus himself, presumably — was also about Llyra's size. Ga’mede kissed the side of Magnificus’ mouthplate before settling on the armchair to the right, leaving the middle one for Llyra to take.

“Councillor,” Llyra made a quick courtesy before taking her seat, “It’s nice to meet you.” It was an empty social convention, but she wasn’t quite sure how to address this pocket-sized Cybertronian who deigned himself to mack on organics.

“Yes, well. Equally so, Ambassador Zarak.” Magnificus’ voice sounded a touch awkward, but Llyra had learnt not to expect the usual politician’s guile from Athenia’s technocrats. “I take it you met Scorponok earlier? Please don’t let him inform your view of our external policy.”

At this Llyra could almost laugh. It seemed the other councillor hadn’t exaggerated in terms of just how much every other mech who worked with organics kept him at arm’s length. Still, she dared not show her own contempt at those her father dealt with, smiling and nodding that yes, she’d met Scorponok. “Are you the one responsible for diplomacy here, Mr. Magnificus?” She asked, plain and simple.

“I… yes, I suppose. Our branches of government aren’t very well defined, but those duties tend to fall to us because of our… circumstances.” Llyra could very well imagine what  _ circumstances _ entailed, but she wanted to hear him say it. “I actually used to be a field xenobiologist, but my rescuing of Ga’mede put me front and centre in dealing with organic lifeforms external to the Union. Whenever Scorponok isn’t going behind my back, that is.”

“Which is… much more often than we’d like.” Ga’mede completed. “I wouldn’t say we are the most qualified people to do this, after all, we  _ really _ did not manage to salvage the situation on my home planet, but I believe we at least can have a more… humanistic approach.”

Llyra wasn’t sure what “humanistic” meant, but nodded either way.

“In short, we are willing to do whatever we can to preserve the autonomy of the worlds we trade with. The balance of too many was shattered in the Cybertronian quest for expansion.” Magnificus explained, intent. “Whatever you might need to protect the interests of your people, we will help you.”

Now  _ that _ peaked Llyra’s interest. She definitely needed an ally in this mess, now that her suspicions about Thunderwing’s plans for her planet became horrifying. It’d be worthy to contact Convobat as well, though her status as something of a rogue agent left something to be desired.

“Whatever I might need?”

“Whatever you might need.” Magnificus confirmed, “Except solving any political struggles within your own world. We might’ve not been able to salvage the situation in Xeptos, but we succeeded in keeping it untouched by Flame’s plan to harvest it for dissection, and that’s what matters for us.”

Well, besides her particular grievances regarding her father essentially greenlighting experimentation on his own people, Llyra wasn’t exactly planning to start an anti-Hive revolution in Nebulos any time soon.

“That’s enough for me, don’t worry. But, now, regarding what I might need to preserve my planet’s autonomy…”

**Author's Note:**

> I really did get myself into writing a fic that uses poetry as a plot device when I don't even write my own lyrics huh


End file.
